


Holy Batman Day!

by Gadhar



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alfred is amazing, Batman - Freeform, Batman cake, Bruce doesn't understand, Fluff, Jason is a creative SOB, This is a Batman fic first and foremost, anniversary fic, batfam, no real Dinah/Ollie, they just slipped in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2010345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Gadhar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celebrating 75 Years of Batman on what is known as Batman Day today- July, 23, 2014- as declared by DC Entertainment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holy Batman Day!

**Author's Note:**

> So yesterday I was buying comics at the store and I overheard the manager telling the employees that he just remember they were having a sale tomorrow (today) in honor of Batman Day. So of course I was going to come back the next day.  
> And did. 40 comics for 20 bucks, yay me.
> 
> Anyway, after hearing this, I wanted to write something in honor of it so this kindof happened. At this point, I'm actually glad that I got it out on time. I still don't understand why we're doing Batman today and not back in May since Batman actually debuted in Detective Comics back in May of 1939, but whatever. At least he has a day!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Thanks to everyone (most importantly Alfred) fictional and non, who made Batman what he is. Shoutouts to Bob Kane and Bill Finger, plus Dennis O'Neil.  
> I do not own any of Katy Perry's songs nor do the opinions expressed in this fic reflect the actual opinions of me, Bruce Wayne/Batman, or anyone else. Only Alfred knows if Bruce truly enjoys Katy Perry or not.  
> I do not own Oreos.

It had started with Alfred, because near everything begins with Alfred, Bruce has realized. Batman may have been an idea festering after his parent’s murder, but the soul of Batman only exists because of Alfred. Bruce is so sure of Alfred’s ability to start things that he whole-heartedly believes that Alfred started the idea of food, nobility, and pure unadulterated sarcasm.

This is the only reason Bruce actually stopped in the kitchen this morning to stare questionably at the cake sitting- prime and pristine like everything else Alfred does- on the table.

It’s not that cake is an unusual thing. Between the kid’s birthdays and the mind-numbing parties he occasionally has to throw, cakes are just a cut below a regular occurrence in the manor.

Cake decorated like _that,_ however, is as far from regular as Bruce can fathom.

“Alfred?”

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“Why is there a cake on the table?”

“Well Sir, after I baked the cake I needed a place it put it until I cleared off the counters the table was the only available surface.”

“No. I mean, why is there a cake with my _face_ on it?”

“Ah,” Alfred says like Bruce has made some completely obvious comment. He turns to face Bruce for the first time this morning and looks completely serious as he says, “It is for the anniversary, Sir.” 

“Anniversary?” Bruce repeats. There’s no anniversary that would warrant a cake as…unique as this. There was that one time, where Tim was young and was still so enamored with Robin that Alfred had baked him a similarly themed cake and yes, they had red and green glitter everywhere for weeks and Dick had even reprised the old costume, with a few alterations, and launched into a full-blown theatrical display of everything Robin but- well Tim had enjoyed it and that was all that really mattered. Bruce may be a horrid father at times but Alfred more than makes up for it.

Still, he knows for a fact that even Tim, with all his eccentricities, would not want a cake with his face.

“Anniversary of what? Why is my face there? Am I missing something? I’m missing something.”

“Sir, I do not believe that is your face. In fact, it is _Batman’s_ face.”

_“I’m Batman.”_

“Of course you are B, that’s why there’s a cake.” Dick comes strolling in, whistling Katy Perry’s _Dark Horse_ and why does Bruce even know that?

But of course this has to do with Dick.

“Wait, so this is your doing?”

“Well, Alfred made the cake, _obviously._ Nice job by the way Alfie. The little batarangs are the _best._ ”

“Why thank you, Master Dick.”

“But I and a few of the other guys thought it would be a good idea, so I can’t take _all_ the credit. But the party is _so_ my idea.”

“Other guys?” Bruce asks in a weak voice because he has a feeling, the same feeling he gets every time Ra’s al Ghul shows up with even more ninjas, that this is about to get very bad.

“Yeah, you know, Diana, Clark, Ollie, Wally, J’onn, you know, _the other guys._ ”

 _“Party?”_

“Uh-huh. Don’t worry I got it covered, just be ready for my call.” Dick takes one more look at the cake and then strolls out of the room, this time whistling _Roar_ and Bruce so needs to make sure that the next time Cass has her little women empowerment music marathons with her brothers that he is not in the manor. Katy Perry sounds like a dying _cat._

Bruce looks at the cake again and frowns, shoulders slumping. Those batarangs _are_ the best.

He does not whimper pathetically.

“There, there, Master Bruce. Master Dick only has the best of intentions. Would you like some cookies?”

Xxx

Dick does eventually call and lucky for him and unlucky for Bruce, Gotham is disturbingly quiet and Bruce is this close to _paying_ a criminal to try a bank robbery just so he doesn’t have to go to this party. 

It’s at the Watchtower and Bruce still doesn’t even know what this party’s for. It’s not even his birthday, Alfred would have told him if it was. 

When the zeta-tubes mechanical voice rings out, announcing his presence as _‘authorization code Zero-Two’,_ Bruce can already feel all the eyes on him even before the flash dies out completely. The Watchtower Bridge is packed and Bruce can see familiar faces and a lot of unfamiliar faces

And is that Booster Gold… _in a cheese fountain?_

There is a loud unanimous cry of “HAPPY BATMAN DAY!!!” with some echoes contributed by those not really paying attention and Bruce finds his eyes dragged to the banners that line the rooms. There’s a few done in Robin colors that say things like ‘Happy B-Day B-Man!’, ‘Congrats on not dying. Look! You’re old now!’ and ‘Father, Congratulations to you.’ 

So that’s Dick, Tim, Cass, and Damian all covered in some way so he wonders where Jason’s banner is.

If Jason has a banner. Jason could have a freaking play set up for him.

There’s other banners of related messages and streamers of black, blue, gray, and yellow everywhere, and yes, there is glitter. So much glitter. 

Soon most of his children are all lined in front of him, costumes donned and big grins in place. 

“What. Is going on?”

“It’s Batman Day.”

“Batman _what?”_

“It’s Batman Day, Bats, can’t you get that from the banners and that loud greeting we all gave you?” Green Arrow flashes him a smile and a wink as he hangs an arm around Black Canary. Well there’s two people he can blame for this.

“Batman Day?”

“Yeah, you know, a day for Batman, like a birthday.” Cass says helpfully and shoves a drink of a suspiciously bright yellow color into his hand.

“It’s not my birthday,” Bruce grumbles, handing the drink off to Ollie immediately who sucks it down with the ease of having done this same thing a thousand times.

“No, we didn’t say that. We said it’s _like_ a birthday. Didn’t you hear? They declared today Batman Day, there’s parties everywhere.”

“Why?”

“’Cause you’re Batman and people love you?” Clark joins the conversation and he has Diana in tow. They both look thoroughly amused.

“I’m Batman. Yes. But I’m not- _75?_ Batman hasn’t been around for 75 years. I’m not even _close_ to 75!”

“Well of course not but we added in a few years to account for parallel universes and time jumping adventures.” Dick says brightly and gestures wildly around the room. “Today is a celebration of 75 years of Batman. Get over it B and enjoy it.”

He most certainly does not enjoy this. Almost everyone in the room has given him a pat on the back or a kiss on the cheek, or, if you’re Ollie, some weird combination of both that Bruce would love to forget ever happened. 

J’onn is the only one who seems to sympathize with him, handing over a piece of cake quietly instead of announcing Bruce’s presence to the room at large.

“It’s not Oreo, right?” It’s not that he doubts Alfred did his research or anything but he has to be sure.

J’onn gives him one of those smiles rarely anyone sees and eats off his own plate. “No, lucky for me. Or possibly you, everyone in this room, and the nearest grocery stores.”

“I really don’t understand all this. Dick knows I hate parties. This is- this is dumb.” 

J’onn raises an eyebrow at Bruce’s ineloquence but hell that’s what this party is. 

“Sometimes it’s nice to be thanked. As Nightwing said earlier, ‘Get over it and enjoy it’,” J’onn says, and then, a second later, “B.”

Bruce actually smiles at that and J’onn disappears into the crowd. 

Bruce finishes his cake and discretely tries to make his way to the nearest door when the room goes silent and a spotlight hits him, illuminating Batman to a visual point he should never be at. 

_“Jason.”_

No sooner has the name left his lips then high above them, a figure drops down. Jason is in his Red Hood outfit. Sort of.

It’s actually a combination of the Red Hood and The Batman and Bruce cringes as everyone ooh’s and ahh’s at all the gravity defying stunts Jason does. 

Oliver walks by and pats Bruce’s shoulder saying, “And so the show begins.”

It is horrifying. In the way that it is so overly dramatic and cheesy Bruce finds himself hating it and liking it at the same time. In a way only Jason can manage. There’s a series of ridiculous outfits battling in choreographed dance fights and then minor musical numbers as Steph sings about his origin in some overly exaggerated tear jerking voice. There’s a song about his battles with almost every member of his rogues galley and that probably takes the longest before each of his kids and the founding members of the League line up and sing Batman’s praises at the top of their lungs.

Bruce honestly hadn’t known Damian could sing. He wonders if a singing voice is something al Ghul requires of all his heirs.

Or maybe Alfred taught him.

By the time it all winds down, Bruce does, grudgingly, make a speech. As requested by his kids and some very drunk superheroes. It’s no more than a single word, but, when you’re Batman, that counts.

When it’s all done with, Bruce takes a look at the room and wonders if this is going to happen again. He really couldn’t handle it happening again.

At least, not until he actually _is_ 75.


End file.
